Fifty Pairs of Boat Shoes: a tale of cocks, cats and cookery
by Just Steve
Summary: Christian is a man on a quest. He seeks to find peace in life, writing philosophy novels and drinking chai tea with a family fortune in the bank, however when he meets Anastasia, a devilishly enthused lawyer who seeks a straight forward life, both their fates change direction drastically. A somewhat unconventional relationship ensues. Note: These are not the original characters.
1. A rubbish excuse

_I guess you could call it destiny,_ he thought, _but, I mean, not too many of you, that word is pretty obscure._

But it was truth that had crossed his mind, one could certainly consider it destiny that he found himself lying naked in her bed. Where his clothes had gone was a mystery, but one that he paid little attention to.

The adventure of his life had begun that very morning when he had, at long last, ventured farther than usual from his homely dumpster at the southern end of Carrington Street. He had always taken a liking to that particular dumpster, with it's warm floodlights and regular supply of sausage roll pastry from the old guy and his cat who lived in number thirty-four who made it a habit to only dine on the sausage.

But this day was different. On this day, he found inside pastry-filled rubbish bag not only crust but sausage too, he knew it was time to venture forth into the world. The world of protein and of boundless possibility.

So, with a stomach full of sausage he stood and, basking in glory, set off from his encampment for what he rightly believed could well be the last time.

This lasted all of three minutes and twelve seconds, interrupted by the sound of slamming doors and locking windows.

"Children, stay inside." He heard the words called frantically from houses as he passed them. "Enough outside play for the day."

His heart began to sink. He had no problem with his appearance, he found his beard friendly, his worn-through clothes a sign of how in touch he was with the earth. But to the world he was an object to be feared, blamed and exterminated. He missed the years when his cheeks had been as soft as his heart, when the colour of his ripped and faded shirt had been as deep as the hurt he felt under the scrutiny of these people. But they would not give him the chance to show his true self to them.

The first sirens came from behind him. He ran, wove, dove, climbed and fell. Finally finding himself spread comfortably on what seemed to him to be the most heavenly sleeping surface he had ever encountered.

His clothes were gone by now but he felt no worry. He could smell the sweetest smell of strawberries, and something else, something deeper. His bare skin danced and swooned with it. He could smell steam also, it wafted in sweet cloudlets from a doorway.

_This,_ he thought intensely,_ this is the smell of destiny._

And it was.


	2. No need to dress

She had just towel dried her body and wrapped her towel around her hair, enjoying the shadow of the feeling of water raining firmly down her spine. Strawberry scented mist floated daringly about her body, hugging her curves like a greedy lover. A lover she was sadly lacking.

She eyed her reflection, pensively watching her with eyes that could preempt her every move. _If only another's eyes could feast upon the supper that lies prepared on my body's table, _she thought slyly.

With a sigh she passed through the doorway. She leaned over and slid her window shut, the curtains swishing like a breath across the floorboards as she drew them closed. But that was not the only breath she heard in the room. She turned to her bed and was startled to see the naked figure of a man positioned somewhat haphazardly on her bed sheets.

His eyes shared the same alarm as hers. This mutual feeling relaxed her, however not entirely. The sight of his body sent a tingle chasing the feeling the water had left on her spine, only this tingle went further than those drips had. It ventured inside her but when it soon sought an exit it found none.

Their eyes tried to speak to each other but failed due to their lack of vocal capacity. However, it soon became apparent to both that words were not the main thing they wished to share with each other.

The lack of necessity for clothing removal caused the impact of their bodies to be swift and powerful. Almost too powerful for his nose, which to his eternal dismay was underestimated by all due to is position lost amongst his beard. The lustful rush of desire flooded their bodies and spilled readily into the surrounding room. It would have smothered her cat had she been unfortunate enough to find itself in the room.

Neither knew what they what doing or why they suddenly felt so compelled to engulf another's body in their own, but that did not slow them. She could hear his beard brushing against the sheets beside her ear, _that's good, _she thought,_ the sheets will be needing a bit of a scrub soon._

The mix of sensations made it difficult for her to breathe. She gasped and clutched at his thick, auburn beard, making his spine go rigid. His hips slid over hers, pressing her into the sheets. Her hands were pressed against his chest, holding him above her where she could see all of him and ponder where he possibly could have come from. She was panting from the effort, her breath becoming the main source of his, as their mouths clung to each other.

_Mmmmm,_ he thought excitedly, _the music of her breath would sound so much better on vinyl._


	3. It's time

"I'm Christian." His voice was low and raspy.

"Oh, I thought you might have been, the number of times you yelled out God."

"No, no I mean my name is Christian."

"Oh, right. Sorry!" She giggled. "Well I'm Anastasia."

"You should get it changed to Anaesthesia, the way you just made all my pain go away."

"Well that's certainly one line I've never heard before." Her sarcasm was veined with affection. She liked this man. Whoever he was, wherever he came from, she liked him.

The rhythm of their breath was still quite fast, their bodies doused with a shiny layer of moisture. The morning light ventured curiously through the curtains, the events of the morning were left a mystery to those on the other side of them.

"So I know I probably should have asked you this before we…" He grabbed her butt, making her stutter. "But how on earth did you end up in my bed?"

"Um," He paused awkwardly, feeling that this topic would not be a strong point of her affection to him. She was such a well-kept woman, her room was immaculate, her body perfectly pruned. Her appearance was the polar opposite of his. Her behavior in bed however, was an entirely different story.

She noticed the nervous look in his eyes and pulled away, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and unease. His beard made it difficult to decipher his expression but it did not do him harm. She found it strangely comforting, although she could not work out exactly how.

"Don't worry, it's not like I can say I was disappointed to find you here."

Her comment encouraged him a little, however not enough to tell her the truth about where he had really come from. "I was just walking down the street and I heard people yelling to get off the pavement because there was a mad man wandering around. So I dove for cover… and this was the closest cover I found."

"Well I'm glad my open window was able to be of assistance to you." She smiled, she was glad her window had been of assistance to both of them. It took considerable effort for her to pull herself apart from him but she knew she could not put off her real life any longer. "I hate to end this so soon but have a meeting in twenty minutes." She sighed, pulling on her underwear, which, much to his delight and impatience, made her body look devilishly desirable.

As she dressed he realized he was in a bit of a dilemma. He had lost his clothes in his rush to get off the street but he was now required to dress himself. She suddenly became aware of this issue and, with a giggle, threw him a short, white bathrobe.

"Really? You want me to be seen leaving your house and walking away down the street in this?" He laughed and snuggled himself in it. It was soft and again he caught the scent of strawberries.

"That can be your punishment for breaking and entering, Mr Christian."

"Oh, you want to punish me do you? I think there might be other ways in which that could be done." The sly look on his face made her heart beat a little faster. She knew exactly how she wanted him to punish her.

She finished dressing and led him down a hallway and into a large open plan kitchen. A wide bench stretched most of the length of the room. A rack of ornate wooden spoons and other kitchen implements was suspended from the ceiling above the clear space for food preparation. Something about that bench aroused him. He knew there was more for him to see and do in this kitchen than he would do this morning.

Picking up a set of keys, a wallet and a banana, she set out to the door. As she opened the door he leaned in and bit her left ear lobe. She liked that, she liked that a lot. "Well I had a good time this morning Christian." She said with a sort of forced formality shielding her deep longing for the morning to continue the way it had started.

"So did I, Anastasia." He purred. And with that, still in the bathrobe, he stepped with, comedic confidence from the doorstep and off down the road.

He heard her car engine drive away from him in the opposite direction. To her, he knew this marked the end of the story. He, however, had a rather different plan. _It's time, _he thought to himself, _I've lived this way for long enough._

He continued walking with a renewed vigor, for he had finally made the decision to move to the next phase of his life. You see, Christian Grey was not a homeless man. In no way was he economically challenged or disadvantaged. Born into billions of dollars, he passed through high school in a cloud of weed smoke, bow ties and chai tea. At the age of twenty-six he had simply made the decision to liquidate himself and spend a period of his life with nothing so as to come to closer, more intimate terms with nature before starting work on his philosophy novel.

Today at the age of twenty-eight, he finally felt that he had reached the status of relationship with nature that would allow him sufficient insight into the world he endeavored to capture with his words. So his feet were taking him not back to his dumpster but to the bank where lay his fortune and his future.

_Today, _he thought, _I shall shed this bathrobe and trade it for a suit, as has been my destiny for all of space and time._


	4. A changed man

As Anastasia drove home from work she could not stop herself from hoping that Christian had not really got dressed or left her bedroom at all. He had been all she thought about during her meeting. The pulsating veins running down his neck and torso to places she wished she could have explored that little bit more before saying goodbye to him.

All was quiet when her key slid into the door. Slipping off her shoes and dropping her bag and her jacket on the table in the hallway she padded into the kitchen. Alan, her cat, had perched herself on the kitchen bench, her tail swishing back and forth thoughtfully.

Anastasia sighed as she unbuttoned the top half of her blouse, relishing the freedom it brought her breath. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a can of sausage flavoured cat food, waving it before Alan's expectant eyes. The cat purred as she spooned the chunky, meaty smelling contents into her bowl. She noticed that her cat had become significantly more rounded recently.

"Maybe I should start feeding you less, chubby girl." She murmured somewhat vaguely.

Then suddenly she heard the doorbell rang.

She told herself not to be stupid as the hope for Christian's return predictably became the first thought to cross her mind. _He won't come back, _she told herself firmly, _this morning was one of those events that you're not meant to follow up._ But when she opened the door her heart faltered a little.

The man on her doorstep stood tall and immaculate in his suit. A suit that made her legs go a little weak in it's slim fit and deep navy blue colour. The green themed paisley bow tie below his chin complemented his precisely styled red hair with its thin side burns dripping lustrously down his chiseled jaw. _Who is this man,_ she thought with an inkling of a hope, _it can't be…_

"Is it… Is it really you?" Her eyes were huge.

"Let's just say I'm not quite the man you met this morning, yet even more that man at the same time."

"Well you've certainly taken a step forward in terms of entrance etiquette." She joked.

"I've taken a step forward in terms of many things, Anastasia. You see, this morning I woke up to yet another day in my search for inspiration and I finally found it."

His words made her tingle with satisfaction and excitement for all the further inspiration she wished to give him. "What do you need inspiration for?" She queried.

"Oh, just this project I'm working on. Its pretty under the radar. See, I am writing a novel but before I found it difficult to find myself a bond with nature that was strong enough to produce a work of any significance." He was no longer nervous about the fact he had spent his past two years in a dumpster. "In search of a deeper understanding of raw nature, I sold everything I owned and sought a life living simply off the streets and that which came before me naturally."

She noticed the deep musty smell she had enjoyed that morning was missing from him, then realised, after his tale of adventure, that the smell was not of him but indeed of the rubbish he had made his neighbor for the past two years. Despite this, she still was not repulsed by it.

"So you were the crazy man they were hiding from in the street this morning?"

"Yeah, that was me. Although I feel that they judged me a little too quickly…"

"Don't feel bad about it, I'm certainly glad they judged you the way they did." She held his gaze and slowly began to unbutton the rest of her blouse.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm here to ask you to come to dinner with me. I managed to find time to purchase myself a car amongst the reestablishment of my life today."

She had reached the bottom of her buttons by now. "I'd love to!" She smiled excitedly yet still somehow seductively. "Only I'll have to have a shower before we leave."

That was all she needed to say.

Their clothes were off in an instant and the bathroom was soon a wonderland of steam and nudity. Christian breathed in deeply. The smell of strawberries once again filled his nostrils. He pressed his mouth against her skin to try and taste it, to bring her into him through all of his senses. But before he knew it his teeth had closed around her shoulder. Her body was pressed against the wall of the shower, water streaming over her, over both of them.

The small white bathroom had become so full of steam that most of the room was obscured. The mist shrouded her body. He blew softly down the center of her chest, past her belly button, forging a path right to the object of his search. He slammed her body to the wall again, her legs clamping around his slim hips. She relished the feeling of his dominance, of being pushed around by a gorgeous patriarchal figure that had come charging into her life with such a force.

In time, the shower water began to run cold. Her hot water system was unfortunate in it's stamina, unlike Christian who she was enthused to believe could go on for much longer.

With a renewed sense of satisfaction, they dressed each other and managed to reach the front door without removing any further items of clothing. They made it to his car and he started the engine. The silence of the Prius just emphasized the effluent peace he shared with nature. They appeared to be quite tame in their seats, but this was not entirely the case.

"I'm not sure I can be with you in a public place for fear of acting inappropriately." She purred.

"I feel the same way." He murmured into her ear. "What do you say to take away?"

"That sounds perfect."

They decided on Indian and soon had their package positioned in her lap in the passenger seat. The exciting scent of spices emanating from the package in her lap sent a wave of desire through him. He so much wished to devour the package in her lap, in all it's fertility. He could see her also struggling with herself to resist the urge she felt to give his package the same treatment he wished upon hers.

With some difficulty they managed to complete their journey without any side trips. They walked up her path virtually on top of each other in their desire to not be any further apart than their clothes made them. He watched her slide her key into her lock and moaned. He couldn't wait any longer.

The door hit the wall with a bang. The food hit the floor with a splash. And Christian's body hit Anastasia's with a thud. She ran her hands along the wall to guide them to the kitchen, leaving a messy trail of food in their wake.

_Well that's a bit of a waste of food, _she sighed inwardly, _but it isn't food that I'm hungry for anyway._


	5. Life is just a solid daydream

She woke up before he did. She observed that by some miracle they had ended up comfortably in her bed. She could see a trail from the doorway of disturbed objects along the shelves where she had been pressed backwards by the force of his insatiable desire. She knew her body must be covered in bruises by now, not that she minded, however she did hope that they would not appear in any places she could not conveniently cover up with clothing.

She watched his chest rise and fall slowly now. The contrast from his behavior last night was profound and almost comical. His silence and calmness made him seem almost and entirely different man. This man deeply intrigued her. _What is it about you, Christian Whoever-you-are, that pulls me like this,_ she wondered vaguely, her hand being gently lifted and dropped by his muscular stomach. As she closed her eyes again she felt him draw a deeper breath.

His eyes opened directly onto her. She was the first thing he saw, the only thing he saw. Her huge dark eyes were closed to him but he could feel she was awake. He kissed her forehead and her eyes opened at him. Like mugs of steaming coffee they made his mind clearer, he wanted to just drink them in.

"Before you go making any significant judgments of my character, I'd just like to make sure you know that I don't normally go sleeping with people before ever speaking to them." She said as she lifted herself up onto her elbow.

He laughed, "I don't think I could bring myself to criticize whatever it was in your character that made yesterday happen."

She laughed. The rest of his life was still quite a mystery to her. "What do you do, Christian?" Her tone was curious.

"Well, I just try to live simply but all I achieve is that I simply live. But I'm not complaining, with the money I was born into it was difficult for me to find a meaningful hobby as I felt I needn't do anything. But writing gave me the ability to make a new world for myself, where money and life were of no grave importance." He was tracing circles on her thigh with his index finger.

"What sort of novel is it?" She had a little trouble forming her sentence as his finger trailed tantalizingly higher up her thigh.

"Oh, it doesn't really have a genre… but if I had to define it, I'd probably say it's _organic._" She found it almost amusing when he spoke so seriously. "It works on the philosophy of possession, that's why I sold everything, so I could really know what it's like to have nothing."

"I see." This serious, philosophical side of him intrigued her. A side that she would never have conceived could exist in a man with such a fiercely dominant force in the bedroom.

"So what is it that you do, Miss Anastasia?" He asked, his hand still moving on her upper thigh.

"I'm a criminal lawyer." She said. She had always felt that her job was quite severe sounding when she said it out loud and had never been able to decide if she liked that or not. But in this situation she was pleased by the way it sounded, although she wasn't quite sure why.

"That's quite the powerful job you have." He said slyly. He knew the way he had dominated her in the last twenty-four hours must have been a shock to her system. A welcome one he hoped.

"Mmm it is." She hummed, lowering her face to his chest and sliding her hands further down from his stomach, searching. She heard his breath catch before he let his upper body roll flat into the mattress. She pressed her lips to his belly button before disappearing below the sheet.

It was times like this when Christian wanted to just stay in that moment for as long as he could. The feeling she could give him with her mouth was unbelievable, he would not think nor move for fear of losing it. She played and moved on him, finding, without fail, every possible way to please him.

There was a somewhat grave look on her face when she finally surfaced. It was just after nine and she could not put off getting up any longer.

* * *

Her desk sat before her eyes but not before her mind. Pen in hand, she sat twirling her hair and looking off into the distance.

_She heard the garbage truck pull up in front of her house, it's huge engine making her ears more than aware of it's powerful presence. She knew what was inside the truck, the smell of the first morning with Christian, the smell of passion and curiosity. It drove her to look outside of her house._

_The door of the truck slammed open and Christian swung his body out with one arm, somewhat in slow motion, ripping off his shirt with the other. The morning sunlight shone off his golden, oiled torso. His muscles glinting, sending her mind off on countless tangents, fueled by the effervescence of his apparition. She could see his muscles rippling as he walked purposefully up the garden path towards her._

_She was sitting in a chair when he reached her. His stomach muscles only millimeters from her left cheek, she was sorely tempted to lick the toned lines. His crotch was almost touching her chin, almost. She longed for it to be closer. And her longing was answered._

_His pants were ripped off in one movement, the force leaving his body parts swinging slightly. She reached out to touch it and heard something fall but she could not see what it was. _The pen had fallen from her hand to the floor beside her desk chair and rolled until it hit the bin in the corner of her office. _The quivering body parts had become still, their shapes reinforced by a new vigor that had entered the both of them._

_He moved himself around her, allowing her eyes to take him in from every angle. She could feel him, throbbing, against her temple. She reached out and grabbed hold of him, pulling him to her. His perfectly oiled skin collided with her conveniently bare body. He pulled her from her chair and soon had her pressed against a wall. She saw a picture near her head tremble and skew from the impact._

_He had a firm hold of her body, she let him do what he pleased and he took her by the arm and slapped her softly at first but then harder and no matter how hard he hit she didn't feel pain, only arousal. She longed for him to keep going but there was a knock on the door and she was forced to detangle herself from him._

Still reeling from her fantasy, she opened the door to her client, "Please come in, Mr Casey."

* * *

A soft breeze flowed past the vegetation that surrounded the courtyard of the café Christian found himself in. The salty smell of his vegan burger mixed with his watery thoughts as he gazed into the shrubbery.

_The ship rocked gently on the midnight ocean. The deck was clear, his fellow sailors were below deck, leaving him on his own in silence. But he could tell he was not alone. He could hear the creaking of masts and sails, the waves lapping greedily at the sides of the boat. Then he saw a body suddenly swinging across the deck from a thick, white rope._

_His mind filled with sweet desperation he watched her body slide down the rope and onto the deck of his ship. She pounced on him, her half naked body only covered in the parts he truly wished so see. As much as he tried, he could not fight her off. His hand caught hold of the rope she had swung off. It's loose coils felt satisfying in his hand. He brought the rope down upon her back, making her writhe in savage arousal. He himself felt a mirror of his emotion. He continued to stroke her with the rope's rounded tip._

_He relished in the power the rope gave him. Their bodies found their way to the center mast where he pressed into her with such force that she no longer needed to support her own weight. He took her wrists in his hand and tied her arms to the mast, spreading her body before him like an undiscovered wonderland. She let out a moan that set every last one of the hairs on his body on end. He shivered with delight and anticipation but this was short lived._

"Are you finished with your meal sir?" The waitress seemed tentative, as though Christian had made a noise that had made her uncomfortable.

"No, not quite." He said, smiling. Only he noticed the irony.


	6. A soup to remember

It was late afternoon and Anastasia was starving. She'd barely eaten all day despite her being at home with constant access to her fridge. She just could not put her hands on anything she truly desired. Since she left for work morning before, she had felt that something was missing from her.

She sensed him even before the doorbell rang. Her entire body answered its call. Blood surging and mind swimming, she pulled the door open. He was inside her almost as soon as he was inside the house. Her back was getting used to being pressed against walls by now, she was learning to enjoy the roughness of his passion. Although, she did enjoy that he was still so precious about her, as though, despite his violence, there was a tentative fear in him that he might hurt her, that she was too fragile.

When they eventually separated they found themselves in the kitchen. "Can we cook something?" He asked her, somewhat enthusiastically. "I haven't used a kitchen in years."

She was still surprised by these small things he had been missing in his last couple of years of life. "Well what would you like to eat? I haven't been able to decide all day. We can go for a bit of a shopping expedition, my fridge is pretty boring."

* * *

The super market was busy for a Saturday evening. The bright lights and loud noises were a change of setting to their usual relationship. She was a little nervous about being able to contain herself around him in public. His presence anywhere just made her mind shut down to normal human interaction. She worried that the restraint in her movement would be noticeable but it was only he who noticed and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was having exactly the same problem.

"So soup, yeah?"

"They have organic things here right?" He sounded almost panicked. "We can't eat vegetables that have just been covered in pesticides."

"Uh-huh, over here." She lead him over to the more pretentious looking forganic produce aisle. "So we need carrot and sweet potato and stuff right?" She confirmed, picking up a bag from the pile.

He had to stop himself from letting out a moan in the middle of the aisle as her fingers closed around the carrot. He so wished for her hand to be closing around something else at that moment. She held it up, ensuring it had no blemishes, then placed it in a paper bag. A few others followed it before she turned over the top of the bag, sealing it shut. She met his eyes and knew exactly what he was thinking. She winked at him, slipping her hand into his pocket, feeling that he was just as excited as she was. _Public settings are no place for us, _he was almost moaning in his head. As they moved to the dairy aisle she did not take her hand from his pocket and he did not complain.

"Yoghurt, butter, I have the rest at home." She was not so interested in the sort of yoghurt that was for sale here.

The line for the checkout bored them and by the time they reached his car their minds were elsewhere. She was trying to distract herself from the desire she felt to remove his clothing by trying to recite the soup recipe to herself. _Carrot… sweet potato… chop… water… Christian… boil… puree… body… heat._ She could not make anything quite flow without distraction.

When they got home she turned on the lights leaving a sparkling trail behind them. "That is such an unnecessary use of electricity." Christian shuddered a little. "Do you have any sort of solar to help with energy consumption?"

"Oh Christian." She sighed, turning of the hallway light as they established themselves in the kitchen. The rack of wooden spoons he had noticed on his first day with her cast an interesting shadow on the wide flat bench on which she had begun to chop the carrots.

"So what should I do?" He asked keenly.

She threw him the bag of potatoes. "You can peel them for us if you want." He picked up the peeler she had slid across the bench and began sliding it up and down, up and down. He could see her watching him as his hands moved. He continued the motion until he had finished the whole bag. The bench was covered in vegetable peel and spices. He found it strangely enticing.

After a while, the boiled vegetables went in the blender. Still a little excited about having access to appliances, he volunteered to control it. She was more than happy to put it in his pleasuring hands. Her stomach dropped as he pressed the button. The mixture pulsated inside the jug, thick, smooth, warm. He looked so proud of his achievement. She longed to taste it, the hunger she had been feeling earlier had escalated.

He was stirring the soup with a wooden spoon. The thick orange liquid swirled and gargled. He looked up as though he already knew she would be looking. Her dress had fallen to the floor seemingly of its own accord. His shirt and suit pants were quick to follow it, somewhat soup covered as the wooden spoon had not left his hand. The impact of the spoon to her body made her back arch wildly. He hummed and she cried out a little. Her hands clutched at his free wrist from behind her, pulling him closer, begging him to continue. The spoon came down again and again. She enjoyed this meal more than any that could have come from a written recipe.

He turned her towards him and thrust her backwards, the back of her body spattered with soup sliding easily over the bench top. The wide flat surface now supported both of their bodies as he threw the spoon down and began to paint her stomach with hot, steaming soup. As much as she wanted to simply eat the soup, Anastasia let her hands show him the gratitude she felt towards his acts. He slurped greedily from her belly button, the soup was perfectly seasoned, although it may have been the sweet taste of her body that made it taste as incredible as it did to Christian.

By the time they separated themselves, the bench had become so dirty that they were no longer brave enough to eat from it. They took their bowls to the dining table, sitting rather dramatically at opposite heads to each other. He watched her, her upper body vaguely wrapped in her dress, half eating half drinking her soup, he could not help but feel a little jealousy for her spoon as it ventured in and out of her mouth.

Alan sprang too the table and positioned himself between them, purring softly. "God, I hope she wasn't in the kitchen a minute ago." She laughed.

"I'm sure she was, that is the sort of episode one doesn't want to miss." His eyes glinted.


	7. The Green Room of Cane

"Could you pick it up for me?" He asked her desperately. "Just use your hands."

"I'm sorry it's just too big, I can't lift it." She moaned.

The bookcase had fallen on him after he had pushed her body too hard against it. The pain of the impact was not the only pain he had in him. His unresolved passion still paced expectantly around his lower half.

A lot of heaving and squirming eventually set him free and the two fell in a laughing heap on the floor. Their lack of clothing seemed to have no effect on either of their body movements. Or perhaps they had just forgotten they were unclothed.

It had be two weeks since that fateful morning they had met. Their lives had instantly become entwined. Or maybe it was their bodies. Maybe just both. Christian and Anastasia were the perfect medicine for each other's malady. He was rough and strong with her, a dominance her early life had sorely lacked, and she was malleable and obedient to him in a sort of perfection that he had never seen nor even imagined could exist.

Her bedroom was now strewn with various objects of sexual value. An unraveled bow tie hung over the head of her bed, an organic leather cuff had been kicked under a chair. He had uncovered a dark, pain-loving side to her that previously he could only have wished was there. She was glad he had discovered this as she would never have shown it herself had he not been brave enough to try.

Anastasia's routine had become regular, revolving around going to work, getting home, finding Christian in her house, releasing any energy she had in herself, sleeping, waking up and going to work again. Work and Christian, work and Christian. That's all she had time for now, she had seen no other face besides her work colleagues in weeks. Despite spending all her free time with him, there was still and element of mystery that surrounded Christian. It was just his aura really, he seemed so introverted in spite of his enthusiastic domination of her.

She was terribly curious of him. He knew everything about the way she lived, the way she arranged her furniture, how much washing powder she used but she knew nothing about him. _I bet you have feng shui in your apartment, oh and a herb garden for sure, _her thought was sarcastic but at the same time she was almost confident what she thought was in fact the case.

"I want to take you to my apartment tonight." It was almost as though her had read her mind, sometimes she believed he really could, they way he could satisfy her needs to the point of perfection. "The furnishing is finished now and there won't be any bookcases endangering anyone's lives."

She punched him jokingly, "Hey, I liked that shelf, I didn't make it fall on purpose."

"I'll pick you up from work so don't drive your earth-killing machine today."

* * *

Yet again, she was distracted from her work by her imaginations of Christian. The case she was working on was beginning to suffer a little as her mind was never quite there in the meetings she had with her client. He was beginning to get upset with her, he was facing a rather hefty jail sentence if she did her job badly and they both knew it.

Mr Casey was a small man, with sharp eyes and a face that had seen many things. But he did not seem a hard man, he was quite polite, quick witted and he smiled a lot but he had a knack for making people feel as though they were always in danger when they were around him. It may have had something to do with the trail of murders his henchmen had left in his wake, however the freezing of his funds since his arrest had made him marginally less dangerous. His embezzlement charges seemed to almost suit his personality and she had a feeling he would need to get much more used to them after his case went to session.

He had been talking at her for the past hour and a half and she was lost to the point of his words. "Your trial begins next Wednesday, the court has advised you relocate to a apartment nearer to the chambers for simplicity's sake."

"They seem confident." He said bitterly. "Those police will probably have my assets on the black market by the afternoon."

"I've had my secretary make arrangements for you, your essential furniture is being moved as we speak." She was careful about what she said, he was a dangerous man if one did something he did not approve of. "We'll meet again in a few days to make the final arrangements for the case."

She sighed as she shut the door to his disappearing back, it was calm before the storm of his trial and she needed a stress release. Her phone vibrated in her pocket making her smile at the realization that the wait was over. She picked up her bag and was out the door in a flash, yelling goodbye to her secretary behind her desk in the foyer.

* * *

He took her to a new, modern looking building in the inner city. It was the kind of building she thought only celebrities and royalty could afford to live in. She had clearly underestimated what he meant by the term "the money I was born into". He led her through the foyer to the elevator. As he pressed _PENTHOUSE_ on the panel, she almost lost her footing. _So this is the sort of life you come to me from, Christian,_ she thought.

The bell of the elevator doors opened their way into a wide open hall, lit dimly by what clearly had to be environmentally friendly down lights. He led her by the hand to a large open plan kitchen where he proudly presented a variety of up to date kitchen appliances that he clearly had not had the pleasure of using yet. She noticed the number of buttons that were available for him to press and could not help becoming slightly jealous of them.

It was not long, however, before he began to press her buttons. The pent up stress of her day was released as he took away her will with his hands. As his body adventured over hers, he was edging them towards a doorway at the far end of the kitchen. The door was ajar, no light escaped from it. It was almost mystical to behold.

The door slammed back against the wall as he pushed her backwards into the room. She could see things hanging from the ceiling and lined up along the wall that cast frightful shadows across the wall from the light in the doorway. There was a wide flat bed positioned low to the floor. They fell upon it, bouncing a little although the surface was quite firm. He pushed her down against the bed, removing both of their clothes before standing up and reaching towards one of the racks on the ceiling.

The wooden spoon hit her upper thigh with a crack. She moaned loudly, laughing inwardly a little at the sight of the collection of kitchen implements he had acquired since the week before. She rolled onto her front, begging him to keep going. He brought the spoon down again and again, until red and blue marks began to appear over her.

He reached towards one of the many pot plants in the room, cracking in half a thick fleshy leaf. He rubbed the thick white sap over her thighs soothing the blemishes. She relished the feeling and reached for him, pulling him inside of her, the pain of her bruises completely gone from her mind. They made sweet, violent love amongst the sweet smell of leaves and cane walls.

* * *

It was dark outside when they finally emerged into the lounge room from the Green Room of Cane. His lounge room was the epitome of eco friendly grandeur. A wood-burning fireplace sat dormant in the wall. A grand piano took a majestic position in the middle of the room.

"You play piano?" She was surprised by this revelation.

"Yeah, I used to learn as a child." He sounded evasive. " I've recently taken to teaching myself the ukulele."

"Okay maestro, where's the demonstration?"

She pulled up a chair to watch him. "Oh, no, no use this chair." He sounded a little panicked as he put the chair back where it had come from and guided her onto a chaise lounge beside the piano. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a stickler for feng shui.

"I knew it!" She laughed, flopping backwards onto the lounge.

"This is dedicated to my deep interest, in the act of physical love making. It's very long." He said. "It's by a band I saw in this really small, underground venue last year."

When he finished playing she applauded enthusiastically. He had a frustrated look on his face. "Someone really needs to invent a mustache friendly harmonica." He said with feeling. "I've been wanting to add some harmonies to that song but I can't play with my mustache and there is no way I'm shaving it off, it has too much character."

She had to admit the roughness of his sparse mustache greatly enhanced the experience of being with him. "Well you have the money for it, why don't you just sponsor someone to invent it?" She reached over to stroke his mustache curiously.

"I think that inventions need to be a personal thing, you know? Like, the inventor should have the idea, otherwise there's no passion and if there's not passion, there's no perfection."

She was still amused by his philosophical moments as they were so drastically different from the way he acted with her most of the time. She knew it was probably because most of their interactions did not involve speaking. Their one that followed certainly didn't.


	8. She's a little horse

Christian had been sitting in the same café for two weeks. From morning to afternoon, typing, typing, staring at plants and drinking chai tea. He was always served by the same waitress. She was a small girl, curvy with olive skin and long, dark hair that fell in thick, luscious curls down her back which was bare to the air in her backless dress. She was submissive to him even in his orders of tea and various vegan meals. She was just the kind of girl he knew Anastasia would find attractive. And the perfect way to distract her from her stress for a short time.

"If you're bored of working in a vegan restaurant my girlfriend and I have a couple of types of meat we could put in your bowl tonight."

Her face flushed immediately, but the curious desire in her eyes prevailed as he handed her a napkin with his address scrawled across it. "My shift finishes at nine." Her voice was only a little nervous. This man had the most incredible aura about him. He seemed so quite and pensive as he typed and drank yet his eyes housed such power that she almost feared what he was capable of.

He did not turn to watch her go, he was already imagining all kinds of fun he and Anastasia could have with this girl.

* * *

Alan was perched on her bedside table when she woke. Anastasia rarely slept alone these days and her cat was a little put out by it. She sat watching Anastasia as she rolled out of bed and blearily prepared herself for work. "What are you looking at, you little chubby-checker you." Anastasia scooped up her cat and carried her into the kitchen. She really had gotten larger these past few weeks. "I better get you on a low fat diet before you blow up like a little furry balloon."

Anastasia was becoming more and more stressed out by Mr Casey's case. She was quite aware that she may not get him off as much as he desired her too. The prison sentence would be simple for her to avoid, she had accomplished greater things than that in her career, however Casey expected her to clear him of all charges and subsequent fines. This she could not guarantee and for that reason, she was nervous about the week to come. She knew Christian wanted to clear her mind of her worries but she could not think of anything more incredible he could do to her than the things they had already tried.

At work she was becoming so distracted by her thoughts of him that she had begun forcing herself to take notes in every conversation she had incase her mind glazed over as it was about to now.

_He was in a garbage man's uniform again, striding purposefully towards her. His torso bare except for a few smears of unknown substances across his chest. His arms encircled her and she found herself thrown over his shoulder, bouncing gently with his steps. The back of the garbage truck loomed. He smelled earthy, she longed to taste his flesh, anything that came out of him. He threw her in front of him into the back of the truck. Their fall was cushioned by the full load of garbage bags that filled his trailer. She felt herself sinking beneath the crackling plastic bags, the strongly scented air enveloping her. His arms reached below the surface, his body followed. Their clothes had disappeared into the ocean of garbage. She felt herself beginning to choke, her mouth filled by the rich scent of rubbish, before realizing it was not the air she was choking on. She clasped her hands around the back of his thighs, holding him to her. They felt so real, even in her imagination. So real…_

Her secretary looked alarmed as she was released from Anastasia's iron grip. "Um.. so… I just came in to let you know Mr Casey called…" She stuttered. "He is going to come in tomorrow at two thirty." She walked out as quickly as she could when Anastasia nodded and turned back to her desk.

_Well that was an interesting experience,_ Anastasia was surprised by how okay she felt about being in that proximity with a woman but then resolved that it was simply because she had been sure it was Christian's body that she was feeling. His perfectly slim but muscular figure was pretty much the only human body she had touched since she hugged her mother when they had run into each other in the street a week prior.

"How are you, my darling?" She had said, smiling broadly at the sight of her daughter.

"Oh mother, I'm just the same as I always am. Working and sleeping, that's all I have time for at the moment." She had deemed it unnecessary to enlighten her mother to the details of her new relationship.

She smiled at the memory of the conversation. How different she was to the person people perceived her to be. She was this serious, hard working, in-control person in their eyes, but with Christian she felt she was her true self. She relished his dominance, her shyness giving him confidence to do anything he desired to her. She had given herself to him as a gift. One that kept on giving.

* * *

"I have a surprise for you tonight." He smiled, happy with himself, as he drove her to his apartment.

"Oh?" She was intrigued and excited and every emotion she relished in their ability to steal her mind from her work.

"I hope your back is feeling strong." He added as an afterthought, making her that much more curious about what was to come.

His apartment was perfectly tidy, the furniture in the same places as it always was, ordered racks and artistic colour schemes. She felt a little bad leaving Alan on her own at home so often now, she had liked having Christian around too. There was something about his apartment that distracted her from her burning desire enough to keep herself off of him for long enough for them to act like normal humans. Although their eye contact still shared between them the same fire that they knew they would soon feel inside each other.

The doorbell rang and Christian pressed a button on the wall to allow the elevator doors to open. She could tell he was expecting someone and Anastasia had almost guessed herself by the time she realized what the surprise was. _Well I shan't waste any time,_ she thought and walked straight at the girl and kissed her. _This is weird but it's not half as weird as I expected,_ she thought with relief.

"This is Ellie." Christian's voice was low and soothing, right beside her ear, his mouth brushing it as he spoke. They really did not feel it was necessary to do much more talking than that.

The three of them found themselves in the Green Room of Cane. The darkness surrounded them, their body heat warming to room to a sizzling temperature. The three of them moved as one on the low mattress. Christian thoroughly enjoyed watching Anastasia's body writhing and moving with Ellie's. He set himself on himself on his back, allowing the two girls to take turns wrestling with his meal. Anastasia noticed that on the rack among the kitchen implements there was one that did not belong it a kitchen. A sleek leather riding crop hung slyly from the rail, it's tip soft covering the hardness beneath. She shivered in excitement at the ideas of what he might do to them with that whip.

Christian caught her eye as she was looking at it. Anastasia got down on all fours, her back wriggled teasingly. Her eyes locked with Christian's tightly. He stood and moved to a cupboard in the corner of the room. He turned around with a large leather object in his hand. A thick strap hung from the side of it, it looked vaguely familiar to her, something from her childhood. Horses, she remembered them suddenly as the saddle landed on her back. She was not entirely sure about this act but was not opposed to trying something new. Ellie, on the other hand, was obviously in a different mind about the matter. Christian tightened the girth around Anastasia's stomach, her back arched at the sensation of him sitting his weight upon her back. The riding crop was in his hand. He tapped her with it, gently at first until she began to crawl around the room on all fours, propelled by the sharp, pleasurable crack of the leather hitting her.

Ellie had become panicked at the sight of this weirdness and quickly begun to retreat from the room. In her hurry to leave she forgot her pants hanging from a doorway and was left to make her way to her car in her lacy black underwear. Her exit was not noticed by the horse and rider who were finding themselves to be inordinately satisfied by this game of whips and straps.


	9. Late nights can still be bright

Anastasia was massaging her back when Mr Casey walked into her office. "I want to know you're organized." He demanded. His happy demeanor was gone. She could see in his eyes the reflection of the stress she was feeling.

"Look, Mr Casey," she ventured. "I'm not entirely sure what you're expecting of me but I have a feeling it's a little more than humanly possible. For anyone, not just me." She added the last bit as a reflex after seeing the look on his face.

"I don't want no criminal record, girl. I have a lot of people out there that would back me up on that if you were to do you job badly."

His threat angered her but this was overridden by fear. "I've sent you your file, are you happy with the line of argument?" She was trying to calm him by speaking confidently.

"You've not written anything I've told you to write."

"Mr Casey, I understand that you want complete control over your case but in all honesty, your point of view is not going to win you any sympathy with the court."

"I don't want sympathy, girl. I want results." His ignorance frustrated her. If his wrong doings were going to cause her trouble, she at least wanted him to accept them. For such a successful criminal, he was definitely a little misguided when it comes to perspective.

As soon as he left she just wanted to have Christian take all her anger away, right there in her office, with it's thin walls and wall of windows looking down to the street below. She did not have a care in the world for anyone but him.

"Jenny?" She called out to her secretary, who stuck her head around the door expectantly. "Can I have a mug brownie, a glass of warm milk and a gin?" Jenny knew exactly what to do. It was that time in the case where the late nights started coming and the comfort food orders came on high demand. Although little did she know, she was not to be the main provider of comfort food this time.

* * *

Christian had chosen a new café this morning, out of respect for Ellie, who he was certain would not be very comfortable with seeing either he or Anastasia again for a long while. He laughed to himself at the fear she had shown. Fear of him or fear of the enjoyment they got out of what they did? He had no idea. He had little interest in her anyway. He could not get the image out of his head of Anastasia on all fours on his floor, begging to be ridden, to be controlled and covered by him. This girl intrigued him, her deep desires so greatly contrasted with her solidly practical demeanor.

He looked to his computer screen, realizing with a smile that he had ceased to philosophize and instead began to describe the perfection of her body, the desires that plagued his conscience and the intense satisfaction that she gave him. _I could do romance,_ he thought vaguely, _if she's all I think about she may as well be all I write about too…_

His computer screen read: _If the meaning of life itself must be defined for those who seek it to feel the satisfaction of knowledge, then let them first feel the satisfaction of perfection upon their body and their mind with a whip and a bedroom. One need search no further for satisfaction is all to those who seek power and power is all to those who seek satisfaction. It is a wondrous paradox that, in that I can so deeply desire her body to envelop mine yet seek just as actively to inflict pain upon her knowing that it will bring unmatchable satisfaction to us._

It didn't make sense to him either.

* * *

It was well past eleven when Anastasia threw down her pen, shut her laptop and let out a deep heartfelt groan. She'd been in the same spot for more than nine hours and her body was hating her for it. She needed to move and move she did.

Christian was inside of her the moment her seatbelt clicked into place, which could have been considered impractical had they been normal people doing normal things to each other. There was no one in the car park at this time of night, even so, the exposedness of their position only added to the pleasure of the act. Her seat belt began to cut into her now bare thighs, restraining her. She moaned, relishing the bite of the material against her skin and willing him to copy it. His perfectly straight teeth made perfectly shaped rings all over her body. She hummed and moved in reaction to the bursts of pain. She knew that her body was the best meal she could ever present him with but unlike a meal, her body added to his hunger instead of quenching it. There was no way of stopping it, it was a creature of its own, that took over him when his mind was doused by her presence.

The silence of the engine was immense after the raucous of their greeting. The Prius slipped unnoticed through the sleeping streets of her neighborhood. As they arrived at her house, the only soul in sight was Alan, her tail swishing gently along the top of the fence as the waddled with slight difficulty to greet them. Anastasia heaved her into her arms with and exaggerated groan and followed Christian inside.

Her fridge was full of microwave dinners to keep her going for the next couple of weeks that were bound to be full of late nights and problem-filled days. Christian shook his head at her when she reached for a five-minute lasagna. He did not want her real appetite suffering either. He opened the pantry and was soon up to his elbows in flour, mixing an oversized bowl of pancake mixture with a wooden spoon. The creamy mixture slopped and swirled about in the bowl. Despite her grumbling stomach she couldn't help wishing he was mixing her bowl instead of the one on the bench.

"Been teaching yourself to cook, have you?" She asked with a laugh. His face was serious, his concentration clearly taking a lot out of him.

"We had the help do it when I was younger." He complained, his sulky expression making her giggle.

"Well now you can be the help if you want, you're all trained up!" She slipped he index finger into the mixture and began to paint the visible V of his chest with it as he stirred.

He moaned a little, his stirring faltered. "Oh, who needs to actually cook pancakes anyway?" He exclaimed throwing a handful of it at her.

The kitchen was soon a mess of gooey white mixture, and pancake batter wasn't the only type. She was so relieved to have her mind taken off the case that she wasn't even bothered that t she would have to hire an army of cleaners the next day to restore her house's previous order. She was getting used to him eating things off of her, it made her tingle on every orifice of her body, longing him to suck harder, to somehow engulf her in him so she would never have to move away from him again.

The pancake flipper came down hard on her thigh. She groaned. This was exactly what she had grown to crave and dream about. The crack and the fizz of the impact caused her mind to explode in a fanfare of hormones and longing. She pulled him inside of her and he continued to bring the flipper down upon her skin making her body buck and roll around him, grabbing at his flesh to steady herself. They didn't make it to her bedroom that night, the hallway had become too narrow for their wild clouds of desire to pass through. The cold of the tiles only added to the pleasure of the acts. Their firmness not an issue to either of them as he pressed her down into them and she felt the pressure squeeze every last breath of satisfaction from her body until there was nothing left to do but lie and listen to their ragged breath heave from their ravaged bodies.


	10. Wonderwall

As she stood motionless beneath the shower, Anastasia could imagine nothing but Christian. She had, of late, been torn between her need for sleep and her desire for Christian. She knew, where her work was concerned, that it would be best for her to nourish her mind but she was too easily swayed by the sight of his bare skin these days. Upon the start of the month she had known not such foolhardy pleasure that could render even her most stress filled moments sweeter than a dream. Sweetness, however, was not quite an emotion he tended to evoke in her. The fiery intensity of passion did not as much match sweetness as pain, but a pain from which discomfort did not arise. Even the thought of the pain made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She was surprised at the restraint she had shown, shutting the door to him as she turned to have her shower but she could not help but feel just a tiny bit disappointed.

When the door slammed open not thirty seconds later her body was flooded both with relief and adrenaline. _Surely it's a waste for a body like that to be covered by clothing most of the time,_ she thought, frustrated. His chiseled hips pressed her backwards, not giving her a single moment of freedom. His hands walked purposefully over her, sliding, grasping, pulling. Her hair streamed in long brown tendrils down her back only to be captured by his fingers and twisted into a knot, dragging her up the wall a little way so that all her weight was upon him. He was panting hard, she wasn't sure if that meant she was too heavy for him or he was just excited. She pressed her mouth to his, slowing his breathing, sharing the air inside of him. His hands were beneath her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing him to her even more tightly.

He let go of her with one hand to hit softly against the wall, he wished so much that he had brought his riding crop, he longed for the feeling it brought both of them. It was as if she read his mind, she brought the towel upon his back with a crack and he knew what to do. He took it from her hand, spun her body so that her chest was pressed to the cool wall of the shower, making her shiver. The towel snapped and crackled against her skin. She writhed and moaned in pleasure, it satisfied him incredibly to hear and see her like this. He thought of nothing but the sound and the feeling as her spun her back towards him and pulled her onto him. He had always loved locks and this was the kind he wanted to slide his key into and never take it out.

Eventually they detangled themselves and managed to return to their previous cleanness. "Who needs coffee after a wakeup like that?"

She picked up her bag but dreaded it, she felt as though her bag represented her chastity and there was nothing she wanted less than to have Christian not inside of her. "Mr Casey awaits." She tried to sound content but she could barely contain the amount of effort she was using to keep her pants on.

* * *

It took ten hours, six coffees and an amount of gin that would probably not be advised during working hours but she got Mr Casey from her office in a state of mild satisfaction that thankfully did not leave her feeling as if her life was in danger. Jenny had sat in with them most of the day, sorting furiously through the papers she had thrown at her, which had comforted Anastasia greatly. However, as usual, her main comfort was the knowledge that Christian would be ready for her, just as eager as she, to take away every layer of stress and unnecessary clothing before clearing her mind once agiain.

The two women sat now, on the floor, amongst a blanket of papers, holding coffee mugs that most certainly did not contain coffee. "This man you met," Jenny began with curious wonder, "what on earth has he done to you?"

Anastasia smile dreamily, "I honestly haven't the slightest idea. He really is the most different thing I've ever experienced."

"He's clearly doing something very out of the ordinary to keep you so interested for this long." Anastasia had not had a lasting relationship, or hardly a relationship at all, for years. She would meet someone, just get comfortable and then lose herself in work and him in the process. The way Christian had not given up on her yet made her grateful but slightly suspicious at the same time.

"He just has this thing about him I guess." She was pensive. "And his body!"

They two women swooned a little, laughed and heaved themselves up from the floor. It had been another long, long day that didn't need any encouragement to become a marathon.

* * *

She could swear she'd only seen sunlight once a day for the last week and this didn't change as she stepped into the late evening air. Christian had taken to driving her too and from work now, it had become up to his plans where she ate and slept as well. She didn't mind this break from reality, it made her feel like a child again, in only the best ways. She didn't hear him coming, his car was as silent as his intent. He could only keep one hand on the steering wheel as he drove, her prescience was too tempting not to touch.

She managed to keep herself from taking him right there for long enough for them to park safely and make it to the elevator. _No once needs the elevator at this time of night, _he thought flippantly and ripped her blouse from her shoulders in one movement. The walls were close and cushioned, making any movement they made feel safe and steady. _This is no good, _he sighed, his notebook hitting her thigh as a replacement. He still wasn't entirely sure whether she just had an incredibly high pain tolerance or was truly the most perfect girl he had ever experienced. Her reactions to his blows were often blows of her own, although not of the painful kind. Although her mouth still was not his favourite of her body parts.

The doors opened with a ding and they fell through into his apartment. They lights were off but they found their way to the green room of cane without a problem. The riding crop seemed to leap into his hand and posses a magnetism to her. The cracks it made on impact sent the most inexplicable buzz between their two bodies that they could almost not contain themselves. Their vocal chords began to run rough, their muscles wavering yet full of electricity, willing them to stop but continue at the same time.

When they eventually did stop, moving was not an option. They sprawled, exhausted on the mattress, it's firmness supporting them bravely.

"So, how was your day then?" Her speech was raspy.

"Well," He began the way he did when he had a story to recount. "I was sitting in this coffee shop today and when the waiter brought me my receipt he was sniggering all over the place so I asked what the problem was and he just pointed to where my name was printed at the bottom, my middle name had been printed too." He was laughing but she could tell he was also dead serious. "So I just looked him straight in the face and said 'So what if my middle name is "Wonderwall", my parents named me after Oasis' best song and at least my music choice is better than yours' and he just turned and walked off. Like, where is the respect man?"

She hardly had the energy to laugh but she did the best she could. They gave up on conversation and just lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling and enjoying the sound of their panting as a constant reminder of the pleasure they had just experienced and would experience one again soon enough.


	11. Reverse gear on a rainy day

Mr Casey's case was as prepared as it was ever going to be. She'd been over every last detail as many times as she could manage without throwing her papers in the air and curling up into a ball. She was quite sure she'd written Christian's name in places where her mind have ventured elsewhere but she did not have the mind to hunt them down and expel them from her notes. She was having trouble sorting out in her head whether or not she minded that her reputation was at risk due to Christian's distraction. She knew she could happily just disappear into him if the need ever came for her to leave but she wasn't sure she could live with herself relying completely on someone else

But that wasn't a worry she needed to pay attention to just yet. She was confident she would be able to get Mr Casey a reasonable arrangement in court. She pushed her papers away from her, not bothering to put them in any sort of order, they were of no use to her any more, a thought that brought much relief to join her nervousness. The court session began in twelve hours, a thought that made her nervous and excited at the same time. The elevator ride to the ground floor was dull without Christian, she noticed nearly everything she did was dull without Christian. It was perfect timing for her workday to come to a close and her playtime to begin.

* * *

She opened the passenger door and fell into his lap. "Whaa-" She began, but the words in her throat were replaced by him. _Once again, thank god I finish work when no one is around,_ she thought, not protesting him in the slightest.

She quite enjoyed being on top of him, his lower body forming a firm platform for her body to rest perfectly. His torso restrained by the seatbelt he was sort of unnecessarily wearing. She pulled on it, letting it slap back against his chest with a crack. He moaned and pulled her roughly to him by the waist, the top of her plaited head brushing the roof as she moved. She had to stop herself from biting into him, she almost couldn't contain her desire but she soon gave in and clamped her perfect teeth around the skin over his shoulder. He hummed and she sucked a little and let go, admiring the perfect circle of red skin that her mouth revealed on him. His shirt collar slid back up to cover it, she sighed and sat backwards, watching his eyes.

"I didn't feel like driving today." He said, holding the keys out to her with his little finger.

"Oh, I get to jump behind the wheel of the environment-mobile do I?" She laughed, taking the keys and swinging herself off of him, into the driver's seat.

The engine leaped into life with the faintest of putters before returning to silence. The emptiness left by the lack of engine noise was replaced by the sound of rain on the rood and his periodic moans and fast breathing. Today, watching her drive his car brought him so much pleasure he couldn't bear to look away from her. Thighs tensing and relaxing as she pressed the pedals. Muscular forearms twisting and turning with the steering wheel. Seatbelt holding back her monstrous desire. He could see her eyes thoughtfully following the raindrops as they slid and merged and parted across the windscreen. Neither of them could wait until they got to her house to release all that tension.

* * *

"Give it to me!" She yelled. "I'm so fucking wet give it to me now!"

She could scream all she wanted, he was keeping the umbrella. It wasn't far to her house from the car anyway. They rain meant her no harm. Her white blouse appeared to have disintegrated in the downpour. He liked this very much. Her black lace underwear seemed like a rather impractical decision for an outfit that involved only white on her top half.

Her kitchen was toasty warm compared to the rain outside but they didn't feel it necessary to remain in their soaking wet clothes. The slop as they hit the floor was a little undesirable but the puddle of water they emitted made for an entertaining test of balance as their feet lost all grip on the tiled floor. They grabbed each other more tightly to try and counteract this misbalance. Their hot skin danced together, the friction between them building up a more than comfortable temperature.

Christian pried himself from her body. "I have something for you." He said, somewhat mysteriously. He reached into her satchel, which he had thrown on the floor in his hurry to be inside her, and pulled out something long and black. It was the riding crop. He pressed it into her hand, his face contorting with the pent up desire inside him. "I want you to use it tonight."

Her hear began to beat faster. This power he was giving her tonight, he was reversing their usual roles. Her body was so excited by this newness that she realized she was trembling. Then she snapped out of it. The riding crop made the most perfect, pleasurable crack either of them could conceive. He bucked and writhed beneath the weight of her thighs, which clamped him to the ground. Her body was filled with so much adrenaline that she almost didn't realize how hard she was hitting him. But he didn't appear to mind. In fact, the harder she hit him, the more he moaned and fought to turn to her and take her onto him instead of wasting her on his back. His hands began to explore despite his face being pressed to the floor. She snapped the riding crop down against them, forcing them to crawl, scalded, back to his sides where she watched them tense and relax over and over again.

His fingers where numb by the time she was through with him. The tingling sensation that raced about his lower body was about all he was conscious of. She had rolled to the floor beside him, panting. He watched her bare chest rise and fall, almost without actually seeing her. His mind was so blurred by the intense pleasure of the last hour that he could barely remember how to breathe himself. He had not expected to get so much arousal from her dominating him. But he couldn't say he was disappointed.

"So, what were you thinking for dinner?"


	12. A cloaked adjournment

Anastasia's mind was scrambled. The only thing that made sense to her was the steady beating of Christian's heart beneath her cheek. Arguments buzzed around in her head, notes on timing, convincing, all the things she knew she knew already but could not accept were truly fixed in her mind. She was never this nervous before a court case. Something about this one made her nerves spike. Something about Mr Casey had her worried.

Christian pulled her on top of him. He could tell her mind was elsewhere and he felt it was his responsibility to bring her back to earth. His skin was cool against hers, she'd worked herself into a state. It was an almost explosive release of stress when it came. She had not quite left the dominant mindset from the night before. The sheet pinned him down, only leaving his head and neck exposed to the air. Her body moved teasingly over the sheet. He struggled and tried to free himself so as to take her body into his grasp but he could not. The riding crop reappeared, not to his disappointment at all. The crack was a wake up to both of them. The look on her face suggested she had underestimated her strength. But they both knew it was the stress driving the blows.

When she eventually released her grip on the sheet he had her beneath him in a heartbeat. "I yield, I yield!" She cried, between laughs.

He released her and she rolled off the bed, almost falling over in the process. "Say hi to the floor for me, won't you?"

The look she gave him had him in hysterics. Even her punches couldn't cure him of this jollity until she was fully clothed. He couldn't decide if he hated seeing her in her clothes or if it just made his life that much more fun. He loved his imagination, the way it could go off on otherworldly tangents about her body. He so wished he could just lie tangent to her curves all day long.

Anastasia wasn't hungry for food. She rarely had been recently. It's so difficult to crave something if the better option is so easily within reach. And Christian was most definitely the better option for her. She mixed and molded her yoghurt with her spoon. The little pieces of strawberry swirled with an irritating incessantness. She disliked the lumpy texture they gave it. Despite this, she couldn't be cured of her love for strawberry yoghurt.

"I'm going to drive you so that you don't kill the population of a small country with your nervous driving." His comment made her defensive but she dismissed it as a necessity. He wasn't going to change his mind. He got a kick out of doing things for her and she liked it.

* * *

Her constant desire kept her mind wound up in a state of crimson. It was primitive. She couldn't make it go away, nor did she want to. The case was progressing as she had expected it to. Casey sat solemnly and silently, exactly as she had instructed him to do. _Well that's a first, _she thought with a sort of cynical optimism, _if he's agreeing with me then maybe he'll start agreeing with the law._

"I call a one hour adjournment." The phrase sounded like the syrup of perfection to her ears. She was so restless she could hardly contain herself. She found herself at the door to the cloakroom. Some other overly stressed lawyer had had a treadmill installed the year before. Anastasia regarded it as the best thing to happen in her work life since she started.

She flicked the lock across the door, letting out a long breath. As she took her dress off she got a funny feeling that there was someone near her. She felt slender hands grasp her waist. She quite regretted not taking ballet as a child as she observed the speed and accuracy of the turn she made to meet Christian's mouth. He had her against the wall in an instant. Their bodies were shrouded by the rows of coats lining the walls of the room. She pushed him to an arms length and jumped backwards, her body disappearing into a clump of coats.

Christian heard her voice resonating from the mass of fabrics before him. He lunged in search of it, finding nothing but a swinging mass of clothing. He felt her fingers trailing over his lower back. His hands snapped to trap them but found simply his skin. Her face finally appeared to him between to particularly large coats. The stepped forward, the coats parted, appearing to have eaten her underwear, which had suddenly gone missing. He leapt at her, this time catching her before she could escape him. His hands achieved a firm hold on her swift frame and hoisted her upon his mast. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her arms pulling him downwards to her.

They hit the floor amongst a pile of other clothing, both theirs and other people's. _I hope none of these are too expensive,_ he thought vaguely, _they seem to be such dark colours, it would be a pity to waste them._ He could tell she was using a large portion of her self-restraint to keep from vocalizing her pleasures as they could hear footsteps as they passed by the other side of the door. This stealth only made it more difficult for them, their heightened desire fighting valiantly to free itself from its mental prison. Christian bit into her shoulder, biting back his moan. Her fingers dug further into his back in response, her voice struggling ever more to remain inside her.

Finally, with their combined strength they pried themselves apart. It had become warm and sticky inside they fabric cocoon of the cloakroom. It was a struggle for Anastasia to relocate her clothing amongst the mess, much to Christian's delight.

* * *

When she returned to the courtroom, Casey was still in the same position she had left him. He didn't acknowledge her return more than an almost despicable glance, his recent treatment of her had begun to worry her. Anastasia's mind was pregnant with the lovechild of fear and pleasure, ever complicating her job. Her heartbeat was still racing, she observed gratefully that the surrounding people assumed the treadmill had been the cause of it.

The session continued as it had begun. The prosecution delivering well backed arguments that Anastasia had known could not be rebutted. Yet Casey still regarded her expectantly. For this reason her pen remained moving against her paper but for the most part, the shapes formed by her hand were of images casting about in her imagination and not of those before her eyes. She knew very well that she was doing herself no favours by not concentrating yet she continued visualizing Christian, his sweat glazed body remained all she could picture.

The end of the day was almost as well received as Christian's invasion of her body as soon as they stepped inside her door. Her body was slow and lethargic from the day spent sitting still and her brain dead mind was not overly willing to fight for energy. They found themselves splayed on her bed, Christian wishing she was just that little bit closer to super woman so she could keep a twenty-four hour service to his desires. To his dismay and amusement, she was asleep before they even spoke. He pulled the doona to her chin and cradled to him as tightly as he dared without waking her up.

He looked up to see Alan, strutting intimidatingly upon the windowsill. Her round belly made it difficult for this intimidation to come off with the desired affect. "Ana should start taking you for runs, big kitty."


	13. A greener way to picture it

Anastasia loved court cases. They were the only part of her job that she found truly interesting. To be honest it was the only thing in her life that she had found interesting for the past few years. But this well dressed, ginger invasion of her privacy had changed things for her. She was now caught on the window-less carriage of the Christian-train. The walls felt of his torso, the floor of his desire. Everywhere she moved part of him interrupted her. _This, _she thought loudly, _this is far better than a court case._

The room had filled to the same extent as the day before. Stony faced, wigged officials, an assortment of bored jury members. Mr Casey looked a strange mixture of satisfied and intimidating. Anastasia knew he was over confident, and she knew without doubt he would blame the charges that were to be served upon his plate solely upon her. She pushed that idea aside, his verdict was not due for at least twenty four hours. At least twelve of which she was bound to endure the countless denials and accusations that had so far made up the most part of Casey's trial.

_His engine growled hungrily on the sidewalk as he swung from the driver's side door without bothering to remove his key. She was almost overcome with anticipation for his stubble to graze her cheek like a greedy herd of sheep. She could feel her spine tingling almost before he touched her. It was not until his bare skin impacted hers that she realized she too was lacking clothing. Cooking implements swung from his belt like work tools. _If only he would go to work on me…_ The idea barely had time to develop before it was punished with the sharp sound of wood snapping against thigh. She didn't feel the pain despite her body longing for every last nerve to be subject to his body-percussion. The fact that she couldn't feel it frustrated her. The waves of frustration danced with tangents of desire, making sweet love to her mind, filling the void left by her imagination's devilish lack of validity._

Her stifled gasp almost drew the whole courtroom's attention upon her return to reality, however the judge's voice drew back the attention, announcing a short adjournment. The pre-lunch session was behind her. The exhaustion she felt was almost rivaling her longing to grasp every ounce of Christian's body. Her stress fought a tantalizing battle with the excitement the thought of him brought her. The highly-strung impulses of her body were only enhanced. Normally she would hardly have had to bat an eyelid to have Christian's unclothed body blow every ounce of worry from her mind but she felt that this stress was too much, even for that.

Anastasia knew exactly what she was going to do. That one little draw in her desk that she hadn't touched for years was ready to be touched. With the image of Christian's pants flying away from her so vivid it almost rang in her ears, she departed for her office.

* * *

The crumpled, white paper package shimmied tantalizingly as her draw knocked open. Her headache's knees buckled submissively even at the sight of it. The first puff of sock-scented smoke left her body along with the deepest, most heart-felt sigh she had ever released. Her pants were off her before she even noticed, her hair falling from it's bun in quick succession. As she felt her mind become enormously clearer, she was well aware that, in reality, the exact opposite was occurring. She sat herself, cross-legged in her windowsill, feeling the breeze whisk the fragments of her mind among the wisps of her hair that smiled around her face.

* * *

The court had been in session for fifteen minutes by the time Anastasia found her way through the halls that had suddenly contorted into a seemingly never-ending rabbit warren. Eyes followed her on legs that danced in the shape of human bodies. He chair curled its wooden arms around her hips as she slid into it. She suddenly felt as though her feet were wet. She looked down and saw the floor beginning to ripple, her feet and ankles changing shape with it. She glanced at Casey's feet, they too were wandering, seemingly free from the rest of his body.

Anastasia felt an overwhelming obligation to alert him of this occurrence. Her pen pressed to her paper urgently, lines forming and merging over the startling rainbow that accompanied the white colour of the page. _Watch your step, C-man. _Her intention hardly matched the outcome. Anastasia was surprised to encounter the intricately drawn caterpillar that curved and crawled over her page with an unsettling animosity.

"Oh dear, oh deary, deary me." She muttered disjointedly. Casey turned to see his lawyer flicking and blowing at a post-it note that she had seemingly accidentally attached to her right pinky-finger. He turned his head fixedly back to the front of the room. She could do what she pleased, so long as he got off this case unscathed.

* * *

Half her belongings settling to the floor where her feet had rested in the courtroom, Anastasia found herself in the passenger seat of Christian's car with nothing but her phone and the white paper bag. Christian turned his key in the ignition and his ship began to sail smoothly down the road, the sails creaking above their heads. She reached for the water bottle beside his thigh ate some of the green liquid that floated from it.

She barely noticed any time passed before he threw his anchor out and the ship slowly came to a halt outside her burrow. She was dreadfully confused as to how they were to cross the moat that waved it's spiky green hide beneath her toes. To her amazement, Christian did not sink beneath the surface as his feet pressed against it. _I guess that's why his parents called him Christian, _she mused,_ he's dead good at walking on water. Even if it is green and spiky. All the better._

The doorway morphed into a welcoming smile before her eyes. She stood back and watched it contentedly. She sighed, admiring the seamless carving of the smooth curves of the sharp, right-angled doorway.

"What's wrong with you, Ana?" His voice stroked her ears. She could hear him frowning from just inside the doorway.

"I told you we were sold out, come back on Wednesday."

"What?" She felt his confusion in the soft, sensitive area behind her left knee.

"I didn't shave the dog because I wanted to, it had fleas."

That's when the white paper bag fell out of her pocket. She panicked as it began to float down the green stream but as it met his glittering fingertips she relaxed, procuring the lighter from her pocket and lurching forward enthusiastically.

They were lying on their backs on the kitchen bench before they knew it. The sky light above them dipping and whirling in it's race to outrun the stars that still managed to peep their cheeky faces through the swimming glass.

"Dude, it looks like an instagram filter out here." His voice was breathier than normal.

"Where are you?" She turned at looked at him, concerned.

"We're on the roof above the kitchen, aren't we?" He rubbed the palm of his had against the drying rack, feeling the corrugated shape of the roof that he had never felt in his life. "Hey, I didn't realize you had a stove on the roof, that's awesome!"

He rolled off the bench, his hands finding the floor before his face, catching him. She stood where her head protruded slightly from the edge of the bench. She went to run her fingers through her hair but something firmer caught her attention. She rolled onto her stomach, her face being greeted by the warmth of his bare skin. She grasped the baguette and began to gnaw at it hungrily.

Christian suddenly procured a wooden spoon, seemingly out of mid air. "Uh-uh, that's not for eating, let me stir the pot instead."

She hummed, sliding into a sitting position, bringing his face closer to hers with her elbows. The wooden spoon was very good at stirring the pot. She reveled in the feeling it gave her. She could feel it in her feet as they played with the backs of his thighs. While his hands meandered purposefully about their business, his eyes were wandering distractedly.

"Hey look, there's a hippo in your sink!" He exclaimed.

It was Alan.


	14. A different sort of kitty litter

They had not made it to her bedroom. In fact, they had hardly made it anywhere at all. Christian watched the kitchen ceiling flutter and wave in front of his eyes. He reached his hand out to stroke it and felt nothing. He was sure it was within reach. The distance between the floor and the ceiling seemed miniscule to him. He simply could not understand why his hand had not impacted with the white plaster. He became distracted by his sudden persistence. He believed himself the sort of person who would accept something and move on but his hand kept waving about above his face. He noticed this distraction also. He was not one to be distracted easily from something he was putting his whole mind into.

His mind soon became a maze of distractions, strung endlessly upon one another. He lost interest in his beloved ceiling. His head lolled to the side and he watched Anastasia, her eyes looking across him showing an intense concentration with the oven that mirrored his relationship with the ceiling. He could hear her purring softly. The sound was almost pained but sounded distant, as though she was far from him despite her being pressed against his skin.

He rubbed her belly with his knuckles, "Does the little kitty want a bowl of milk?"

She adjusted her face to stare at him so blankly that he almost tripped out again. Believing solidly that he was dreaming he reached out and tickled her behind the ears. He heard her purr again and, taking this as a positive sign, continued to scratch her ears.

She frowned and moved her head back. "Why are you purring like that?" Her tone was confused.

"I'm not, you're just hearing yourself."

"I'm not even making any noise," She looked almost alarmed, "what are you talking about?"

Again, Christian heard the purring. "See, you're doing it again!" He was still having trouble concentrating. Anastasia's four eyes merged and parted in front of him.

"Well, if I'm not making it," she paused pensively, "and you're not making it…" She paused again, but this time it was more as though she had lost interest in her sentence. "… oh right, yeah. So that means that something else is making it."

"What are they making? A cake?" The excitement on his face made her make a mental note to make a cake with him the next day. Although the way her tainted mind would have translated that request by tomorrow was a mystery to them all.

"What time is it?" She was awfully hungry.

"Uh, two-hundred and three o'clock." His eyes widened. "Holy moly, we've progressed into a new dimension!"

She sighed. "No Christian, that is a twenty-four hour clock, it shows twenty-four ho – Hey, two-hundred is higher than twenty-four. What happened?"

The cat purred again. It almost sounded like it was in pain. "Hey maybe we've been transported to a parallel universe where cats have come to power!" The amount of excitement in his voice worried Anastasia a little.

"No. No, we're in my kitchen. In 2013. And cats have not come to power over night."

The puppy dog eyed disappointment on his face was washed from her mind when the cat purred once again. This time it really did sound urgent. "Oh it's Alan!"

As if her stage cue had finally been called, Alan's rotund, feline figure strutted into the room. She did not make it very far before she had to have a rest. The two humans watched her, bemused. The cat was struggling to hold her immense blubber layer.

"Do you want to make cookies?" Anastasia really did feel like cookies. The chocolate chip kind would hit the spot just fine

"Only if it involves a wooden spoon."

* * *

Alan watched them with her knowingly unknowing eyes. The wooden spoon was used seldom for cooking. And the apron. The apron Anastasia wore was quite clearly for teasing purposes as the cookie dough ended up more prominent smeared across her chest than on the tray for the oven.

The bands of pain in her lower stomach area that had subsided somewhat, returned to distract her mind once more. She really did regret that one playful night she had spent swept up by the romance of Steve, the sleek silver cat who occupied the rooftop beside hers

Suddenly she felt a paw pot out. Then another. _Oh, I really hoped my children would not have to enter the world this way, surrounded by naked, fornicating humans and cooking implements._

* * *

Anastasia was the first to notice the change in pace of the situation. "Oh wow!" She exclaimed, tearing the apron from her bare body and kneeling beside her cat. She scooped up the gooey kitten and cradled it with her fingers. It's eyes were still shut but it mewed softly.

"Is she regenerating? Is this her new form?" Christian's voice was thick with intrigue.

"No Christian, this is a cat not a time lord."

Six slimy, squirming kittens crawled their way into the world and sprawled about on the kitchen floor. "Shouldn't we be calling a vet right about now?" Christian had developed what he believed to be a bond with the kittens in their fifteen minutes in the world

"Yeah I have her number somewhere, I'll get her to come over as soon as possible."

Christian's mind perked when she said _she_.

* * *

Sally, the vet, took mere minutes to arrive. "My husband had to catch a flight at twelve-thirty so I was only just out of the shower."

Anastasia and Christian had hardly had time to clear themselves of cookie dough and cover their bodies, coursing with desire, before opening the door to the somewhat beautiful, young vet. She worked almost solemnly to clear the kittens as healthy and safe. Anastasia and Christian looked at each other. They could both tell the other had noticed that the vet had one of the most arousing concentration faces they had ever seen.

Christian's robe hit the floor first. It landed with a silent hiss, sending a soft wave of air across the floor that made Sally's dark hair float briefly about her neck. She was still regarding the kittens. Anastasia's robe hit the floor somewhat less delicately. She had forgotten the wooden spoon remained in the front pocket. Sally turned slowly to regard the occasion for spoon dropping. The silent call of their bodies was answered by the pop of her buttons flying off as she tore her blouse from her. The kittens, made immune to this moment by their naked welcome into the world, ignored the happenings and continued to nap against their mother's belly.

As a vet, Sally was used to dealing with animals. But in this situation, the raw wildness of their bodies carried her mind to a place it had not been in many years.

The first time the wooden spoon struck her, Sally was not quite sure what to think. But as it continued she grew to like the crack and fizz of her skin being abused in such a way. She soon learned to join in, the pain game sending the three of them into a frenzy of energy and desire. As the kitchen implements were produced, used and discarded, the sweat produced by the effort of it all began to lubricate the floor beneath them, making everything just that little bit more of a slippery funtime. Even the smell of burning began to rise from their bodies until Anastasia realized it was not they who were burning.

"Oh no, we can't let the cookies burn!"


	15. An open ended close

Sally had to leave after the cookies were ingested. She did seem a little reluctant though, better than the completely and utter disgust shown by Ellie, the waitress. Christian was pleased with himself. The sort of deep, all encompassing self pleasure that you really can't get by yourself. Anastasia's soft, sleeping hand lay cradled on his thigh. He could not understand how, even in her sleep, she was able to bring such undulating pleasure to his entire being just with the touch of her hand.

It took all his strength to let her continue sleeping. It was the last session of the trial tomorrow, or today depending how you looked at it, and Casey's case would finally be off her mind. He would once again have her all to himself. Completely at his hand's desire. Completely. He let out what he believed to be the longest, heartiest sigh he had ever known himself to release and closed his eyes once more. Letting his mind wander down to where her hand rested.

* * *

She already had three missed calls from Casey when she checked her phone. _For god's sake its seven in the morning the judge wouldn't have even gotten up by now I can't make any difference at this time of day,_ she thought bitterly. She was well aware this man was no where near being out of her life, but there was nothing she could do now, she was able to simply dread the reading of the verdict and distract herself in the only way she knew she could.

She rolled on top of his sleeping body. His torso lay like a trail for her mouth to follow. Down, down the garden path to the place where Christian kept the tools he only let her play with.

His body awoke suddenly, with a sort of electrifying force that flowed generously from his limbs to hers. The energy soared through her, so much so that she almost took off from the mattress, or was that just Christian lifting her with his driving desire...

The bleeting noise of her alarm sent the atmosphere fizzling down to a low buzz of cheekiness. She bounced to her feet, the pleasure of her night carrying her mood miles above the earth. Her mood was not quite the only thing being lifted by the events of the past twelve hours.

Christian lay back, watching her curves as they danced, this way and that, while she searched for her clothes. She was a dream, all of her. He just wanted to sleep all day, thinking of her, and wake all night, being on her.

* * *

Anastasia felt as though she had not been inside the courtroom for weeks. Each night, as they got more and more delicious, warped time, seeming to take up all her life as she longed for them to. But real life did not want her to have this dream. Mr Casey was just sitting in his chair, his self-interest blowing like a gust of wind from his folded arms. Anastasia prickled at the thought of him, sitting in his grand mansion, surrounded by people he had absolutely no intellectual desire for, smiling to himself at the power he held of his silly little lawyer. She resented this power but she knew it was just a little too late to tell him to get a different lawyer.

She sighed, bottling this anger inside of her to release during her closing speech. _I only have to sit through a few more hours of this, _she noted.

* * *

"John Wolfric Casey, I sentence you with a fine of five-hundred thousand dollars and a three year good behavior bond with a three-year confinement to the country."

The words were the strangest mix of gratifying and unwelcome to Anastasia's ears. The look on Casey's face at the verdict was about as dissatisfied as she had expected. The court was dismissed. Casey turned to her. _Well here come the guns_, she sighed apprehensively.

"Well I guess this is good-bye." She did her best to smile.

"Oh what a fantastic going away present, I am oh so grateful." The warmth in his voice was so genuine she almost fell for it.

"Look, Casey," she began, "there was nothing I could do to change your crime. Fraud is a difficult thing to argue someone out of."

"Oh I know." His smile was unnerving. "Just make sure you lock your doors at night is all I'm saying. Maybe during the day as well. You never know who might be waiting to come and say hello."

She watched his figure glide away across the room. She could almost hear her heart beat more clearly than the sound of Christian's voice as he called to her from the doorway. It took her a while to process the message that Christian was trying to get to her.

"Ana, I have a very good idea to make you feel more than better."

Even that sentence did not excite her as much as it should have. Only the faintest tingle of desire darted from side to side inside her. She made herself turn and walk with him. She could see his car from a window and was grateful to how close it appeared.

Just the touch of his hand to her thigh as he did her seat belt up was suddenly enough to wake her from her trance. "Why, oh why does society make it so difficult to relieve stress in public places." She sighed rhetorically, grabbing hold of him through his trousers.

"Well hello to you to." He grinned and climbed atop her, slamming the door in his wake.

Their cramped bodies interacted in a way Christian had no know them to. Anastasia's skin burned with an energy that surpassed her normal powers. It was like wrestling with a superhero. A super hero who's power was to satisfy you in the most pleasurable, perfect way imaginable.

* * *

"That Casey was holding you back before." Christian was so mind boggled by her performance that he could do nothing more than recite blunt, obvious facts.

Anastasia laid her head back on a cushion, her porcelain décolletage spreading before his eyes. She hummed softly, Christian felt the vibrations from the sound run down her chest into the palm of his hand. There was something big on her mind, something that he intended to seek and destroy. Along with various parts of her intimate self.

_It's just empty words,_ she tried to reassure herself, _he was just blowing off steam after hearing his verdict. _She really did do her best to believe that. Her very best.


End file.
